Knockdown
by nubianamy
Summary: Donutverse #4: Puck realizes what a jerk he's been to Finn, and some other things. Kurt helps him see the truth. Takes place during episode 1.09 Wheels. Dom/sub, discipline.
1. Chapter 1

Knockdown

Puck snuck a hand out from under the covers and turned off the alarm a few minutes before it could go off, as usual. He wasn't sure how he woke up on time every day; he guessed his brain just knew when it was time. Sometimes, when he was a kid, he liked to lay there and watch the numbers as they changed, knowing he still had three more minutes of time to himself, where no one was watching or telling him what to do. It felt sneaky. He'd done a ton of sneakier things since then, of course, but it remained a private daily ritual, and every day he reveled in it.

He pushed back the covers and reached for his guitar. That was another daily ritual. It felt like a part of him, like another limb. This Gibson was new, purchased with pool money he'd saved up for two summers running; her voice was sweet and clear. (He wasn't a total loser - he wasn't going to _name_ her or anything - but, he thought, _guitars, like cars and boats, are always chicks, you know?) _He strummed an A major progression and sang a quiet verse by Neil Diamond:

_Money talks_

_But it don't sing and dance_

_And it don't walk_

_And long as I can have you here with me_

_I'd much rather be_

_Forever in blue jeans_

Pretty much the only things he'd gotten worth getting from his father were his bowling ball, his musical talent and his Neil Diamond LP collection. He didn't have many good memories of his dad, but he did remember sitting on the couch late at night, wrapped in an afghan, while his father and his father's buddies talked and smoked and joked and played music.

A loud knock and his mom's voice didn't distract him from his playing. "You up, Noah? Time for school."

"Yeah, ma," he called back, switching to B major and strumming the opening riffs of _Sweet Caroline_:

_Where it began_

_I can't begin to know when_

_But then I know it's growing strong_

_Was in the spring_

_And spring became summer_

_Who's have believed you'd come along_

Puck knew there were few things in life he was really good at, but he also knew he was a fucking awesome singer. Most of his life it had been something he'd done for himself and a few close friends. Until now. He _loved_ performing in Glee. Mostly, he loved the way the girls looked at him - _like I'm God or something_. Even football players didn't get that kind of adulation.

Not that he'd ever had trouble getting girls to go out with him. Cougars notwithstanding, he did pretty well for himself in the dating department. He didn't bother to go after girls. Mostly, he waited for Finn to point out the girls _he_ liked. Puck didn't usually notice them until Finn mentioned how cute _her _hair was, or how perfect_ her_ tits were - but the funny thing was, he was usually right_. I guess we have the same taste in chicks,_ he thought. _He just looks more closely at them than I do._ He focused on playing his guitar and being a badass and waited for Finn to say he had a thing for some girl, and then Puck knew who to ask out that Friday.

He remembered one time, when they were in eighth grade, Finn had a crush on Amy Rodriguez, the bleached-blonde nice girl of the popular crowd. She liked 80s pop music and got straight As, but she'd been pretty hot for an eighth grader. Finn did a lot of smiling around her and made some shy eyes at her in the hallway, but he took too long. Puck had no idea how to maintain a relationship, but he could get anyone to notice him. It didn't take long before he'd convinced her to ask him to the Sadie Hawkins dance. They double-dated in his big brother's Volvo, he and Amy and Finn and Jessica Flynn. Finn never said anything to Puck about it, but he could tell Finn was more interested in what Amy and Puck were doing in the back seat than what Finn was getting from Jessica in the front. Puck and Amy had never gone out again after that, and Finn had never pursued her.

And that's just the way things had always gone between Puck and Finn. If Finn wanted it, Puck wanted it, and usually, Puck was the one who got it - and if Finn got there first, Puck usually took it from him. He had no explanation why this happened time after time.

* * *

><p>Earlier that year, it had been Quinn. When Finn and Quinn started dating, it was more or less habit for Puck to aim for drunk sloppy sex with her. It wasn't so much who she was or even what she looked like - although he wasn't complaining about banging the head cheerleader. It was just what he did. Finn wanted; Puck took. On one hand Puck knew Finn would be pissed for a while, but he'd get over it. He always did.<p>

Only this time, Puck had left behind some over-enthusiastic Puck Jr.'s, which made this particular conquest much more complicated. Puck regretted not telling Finn about what had happened long ago. Now Quinn was lying to Finn, which made Puck's lie of omission somehow much worse. He didn't mind lying, but _lying to Finn_ made him feel uncomfortable.

He knew he _didn't_ want to be a father, not now, and _not_ with Quinn. Puck liked the idea of being a dad - someday. He felt bad for Quinn that she was going to have to deal with a kid before she even graduated high school. _I'm definitely too busy with my life to be responsible for someone else's_, he thought_. I couldn't even keep track of that stupid egg in biology class for 24 hours._ He'd ended up including it in the hollandaise sauce for breakfast the next day.

But Finn - he had way more going for him than Puck did. Between Glee and football, Finn was likely to make it big enough to get out of Lima someday. And him getting roped into being a teenage dad for a mistake that Puck had made - that was totally unfair. He thought about it a lot, but every day it seemed more impossible that he could tell Finn the truth without destroying their friendship, and that was _not_ something he was going to risk, not for anything. So he just watched Quinn lying and kept his mouth shut.

* * *

><p>Last week, it had been Rachel. Puck wasn't known to back down from a challenge, so when Rachel said she didn't think he was man enough to sing a solo, he knew he was going to have to come up with something. Fortunately, eight years of guitar lessons gave him a large repertoire to draw on. Neil came through for him again.<p>

_Hands, touching hands, reaching out_

_Touching me, touching you_

Rachel ate it up. _I could have made her come in her pants just by strumming my guitar and belting out a couple more F#'s,_ thought Puck with satisfaction. But seeing Finn, staring at Puck with this stunned expression, looking more discomfited than he'd seen him in a long time, was even more satisfying. Puck was Finn's own personal traffic accident: he didn't want to look; he couldn't look away. Puck smirked.

After that performance, Finn had caught him at his locker. He eyeballed Puck. "So... you and Rachel, huh?"

Puck nodded. "For now. She's a good Jewish girl. My mom would approve."

"Yeah, I guess." Finn's face was perplexed.

"What?"

Finn's gaze went far away and he squinted, wrinkling his nose and shaking his head. "I don't know, man."

"Just say it."

"Are you... sure she's your type?"

Puck grinned. "Warm and willing? I think Rachel qualifies. She's hot, single, talented and when she's not trying to talk, we get along pretty well. So what's your point?"

Finn exhaled. "I just don't want her to get hurt. I like her. She's a good person, Puck."

"And I'm not?" drawled Puck.

Finn snorted. "Do you really want me to answer that?"

"Hey!" Puck thumped him none-too-gently on the side of the head.

Finn grinned, relenting. "You know I've always got your back, bro."

Puck started to make a clever response, but it caught in his throat as he found himself lost in a sudden memory of Finn, leaning over him and digging his thumbs into Puck's shoulders. He slammed his locker, running a hand through the stubbly hairs on his neck.

"Don't worry," Puck said flatly, falling into step beside Finn. "She's just a chick."

"Bros before hos," said Finn, raising his hand for a high five, which Puck automatically completed.

_Reaching out... _

Puck's hand tingled, and he rubbed it on his jeans to stop the itch.

* * *

><p>Puck thought it was the fact that Finn <em>didn't<em> generally get mad that made him keep doing it. On one level he knew it was stupid. It was almost as though he _wanted _to make Finn angry, which didn't make any sense, but he still couldn't stop himself.

Like this thing with Quinn and the money. She was really pissed at Finn for not paying for the baby bills, and Finn kept whining about it, how hard it was on him. He could have done something to help if he'd really wanted to. Instead he became Mr. Super Whiny Loser Dickwad.

So when Puck woke up that morning, he thought, _I can do that. Finn is being a wuss, and I'm going to take care of it. Even if it pisses him off, for real. _

Puck only had a fistful of bills left over from his summer pool money, but he brought it to school anyway. He found Quinn by accident in the home ec room when he went down to make some cupcakes for the Glee bake sale.

"What's this?" Quinn said.

There was no way she was going to accept it, but he tried to force the money into her hand anyway. _Even if you're making him take the fall for this kid, _he thought, _this is something I can do to help Finn._

Then it just got silly with the egg-cracking and the salt-shaking, and she was smiling at Puck, and he couldn't help but think, _she does have a killer smile_. He had flour and sugar and all kinds of kitchen shit all over him when Finn found them.

"What the hell?" Finn demanded, and Puck took his hands out of Quinn's hair.

"We're baking," she said brightly, and the look he gave her was so hurt, so full of stupid Finn confusion. It was just what he'd wanted. _Wasn't it?_

Suddenly Puck realized he really _didn't_ want to deal with it, not just then, so he avoided Finn's eyes and ducked out. "I'm going to go change."

Finn didn't challenge Puck, so he figured he was safe, but he'd only managed to get clean and halfway dry by the time Finn stalked into the locker room.

Now the look he gave Puck was more cautious than hurt. "That was stupid," he said petulantly.

Puck raised an eyebrow, drying his neck. "What can I say? I'm hard to resist when I'm covered in cupcake batter."

"She doesn't want you," Finn said through gritted teeth, leaning on the sink.

"Dude - give me a break. _Everybody_ wants me."

Finn avoided his eyes. Puck came over beside him, hair still dripping, and put a damp hand on Finn's shoulder.

"It's not personal," he lied. _Not in the way you think._

"She's my girlfriend!"

_I don't even want her,_ Puck wanted to say, but that would have opened up all kinds of questions, so he just said, "Okay."

"What I mean is... she's carrying my baby," he said quietly.

Puck flinched, but kept his hand on Finn's shoulder. "I'm not going to do anything to hurt her," he told him. _Again_, he didn't say. Then, tumbling out before he could stop it: "Or you."

Finn did look at Puck then, quickly turning toward him, and all the fire went out of him. Finn sagged, stumbling forward a little so that Puck had to back up or catch him, but he didn't want to do either one. Puck's hands went around Finn's biceps and kept him there, inches from his face, breathing hard. Finn's eyes were afraid, lost. Puck stared at his parted lips, fascinated.

_Reaching out..._

"I don't know how to give her what she needs, Puck," he whispered. "I can't find a job; I can't be that baby's daddy; I can't make her happy. She's always angry at me."

"I know it sucks, but you've got to try," Puck said. "You have to be a man for her."

"What about what I need?" Finn said.

Puck swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "What do you need?"

He could barely hear Finn's reply. "Never mind. It doesn't matter."

"It's your life, too!"

"Right now, all I care about is her."

It was the worst thing he could have said. Puck felt the walls inside come up like steel. He uncurled his fingers and pushed Finn away from him, cocking his head resentfully. "Have it your way."

Puck wheeled around, grabbed his shirt and slammed out of the locker room without even bothering to put it on first. He didn't feel like sticking around to talk about it anymore.

This was getting far too complicated for his taste. Finn was supposed to be Puck's no-complications friend, his video game buddy, his teammate. He didn't want to work so hard at being around him, or to leave every encounter feeling so frustrated and confused. He didn't want to _dialogue_, didn't want to _share his feelings_, and he definitely didn't want to look too closely at the picture of Finn's parted lips in his head and how it related to the hardness in his pants.

_What about what _you_ need, Puck? _

He had no idea what it was he needed.

* * *

><p>Luckily, baking scads of triple-chocolate cupcakes in the empty home ec room was a great distraction - much better than math, which he hadn't attended for two years. Some guys go to the gym when they're stressed. Puck cooked. There was something about making a really kick-ass torte or a killer béchamel sauce that calmed him down. By the time the last batch of cupcakes came out of the oven, he was feeling nearly himself again.<p>

He managed to balance three trays of frosted cupcakes and carry them into the cafeteria without dropping them. Finn was already there with Quinn and Santana, looking around hopefully as people walked by their empty bake sale.

"Ready to make some money?" Puck deposited the goods and slid into the empty wheelchair beside Finn. Their knees just touched under the table, and Puck didn't bother to move away.

He looked at Puck briefly, face even, friendly smile intact. Puck gave him an equally bland nod, and everything was fine.

Like he'd said, no complications.

Puck decided rolling around in that wheelchair all day was getting to him. The muscles in his back were knotted, and he could feel a headache creeping up his neck and into his skull. Maybe it was all the cupcakes he'd eaten. So when Finn started in again with his whining about not being able to find a job, he was already ready to pick a fight with him.

"She has a point. You are kind of an idiot," he told Finn.

"Like you'd do anything different," Finn snapped.

"Damn straight."

He looked contemptuously at Puck. "Like what? No one's hiring."

Puck could think of a dozen ideas right away, some of which were illegal; only a couple were within the realm of possibility for a straight-laced boy like Finn. He suggested a few, ending with, "Whatever it takes."

Finn rolled his eyes and heaved a sigh. Puck pulled to a stop in the middle of the hallway, suddenly pissed at him, at the end of his patience. He spat names like "punk" and other stupid accusations at Finn. Finn's eyes burned into Puck, and finally he reached across the distance and smacked Puck on the arm, yelling, "_You're_ a punk!"

_Reaching out..._

Puck punched Finn in the face. Then he didn't think after that, abandoning the wheelchair and toppling onto the floor, grabbing at Finn, rolling over and over on the floor of McKinley High while other kids gathered around to witness the fight.

Puck was on top of Finn, balling his fists in his shirt and knocking him back to the tile, but Finn was a couple inches taller than Puck, and way better at wrestling than Puck would ever be. He quickly flipped Puck over and landed a good punch on his mouth. Puck grunted, feeling his teeth slice into the back of his bottom lip.

Just for a second, their eyes connected. Finn's were burning with fury, no wimpy confusion remaining in his pose or his actions. He knew what he wanted: to kick Puck's ass. And he was going to do it.

Puck felt his eyes widen in response, a little fear, but mostly shock and - god, _something,_ a wild, churning morass in his gut. Finn leaned a little toward Puck, and Puck suddenly realized he was rock-hard against Finn's hip. It was just a moment of contact, but Puck knew he could feel it, too. Finn's gaze didn't waver, and Puck thrust up against him, one desperate attempt to connect.

_Touching me, touching you..._

Then Finn was being pulled off him, the connection lost, Mr. Shue yelling for them to break it up. They were on opposite sides of the hallway. Puck stared at Finn, but Finn avoided his eyes, taking a slow, shuddering breath and looking at the floor in confusion and defeat. The sure and confident Finn of a moment ago was gone.

"You guys are best friends," said Mr. Shue. "What the hell's going on?"

Puck mumbled some excuse about the bake sale, which clearly wasn't cutting it with Mr. Shue, but Mr. Shue let him walk away without further questions. It was just as well, because he had no idea what he would have said if Mr. Shue had made him talk to Finn.

He felt numb inside, like a shock had been applied to his system. _Finn._

_I am absolutely fucked._

* * *

><p>He managed to stumble into the men's bathroom and snarl, "Out," at the two freshmen gawking at him. They scattered like pigeons back into the hallway, leaving him alone with his confusing thoughts and bloody lip.<p>

For about three seconds. "Puck? You okay, man?" Mike Chang's dark head popped through the doorway, followed by a carefully coiffed Kurt bearing a first aid kit.

"Do I look okay?" Puck ground out, feeling his headache get worse.

"We saw the whole thing," Kurt said briskly, setting the kit down on the sink next to him and pushing his hands out of the way. "Move your hands - they're filthy and you're going to give yourself an infection."

Puck lowered his hands and stared at himself in the mirror as Kurt began his tidy ministrations. His own hollow eyes stared back accusingly. _What had he done?_

"I don't know - you tell me," Kurt said. Puck looked at him. Apparently he'd spoken aloud.

Kurt glanced from Puck to Mike and back again. "Mike, can you go get Puck's wheelchair out of the hallway and let Mrs. Rasmussen know we'll be a little late for English?"

"No problem," said Mike, disappearing as quickly as he'd appeared.

Kurt smiled thinly at me. "I was guessing the fewer witnesses, the better. Now, come on, Noah, you were saying?"

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Puck's teeth had gone clear through his lip and it was swelling up quickly. He poked at the blood still seeping from the cut. Kurt slapped his hand away.

"_Infection._ Well, let's say I have a unique perspective on matters regarding Finn Hudson." Kurt's eyebrows furrowed. "You need someone to talk to who understands."

"Understands? Hell, _I _could use some of that." He laughed, a hollow sound.

"So, why did you punch him?"

It'd been a pointless fight. Even Puck could see that, only minutes afterwards. "He was being a jerk about Quinn."

Kurt's eyebrows climbed higher. He got out a tube of Neosporin. "And Quinn is so important to you?"

"Yeah." _No._ Puck looked at Kurt and took a deep breath. "No, I guess not."

"Who is Finn to you?"

"He's my best friend," he said automatically.

"Oh, yeah, I can tell." Kurt spread the ointment on a clean cotton swab and deftly applied a layer to the cut. "Because guys always knock up their best friend's girlfriends, right?"

Puck just stared at Kurt. He didn't even protest. "How - when did you find out?"

"I have connections," Kurt said smugly, sorting through the bandages and selecting a small, round circular one.

Puck sat down heavily on the floor. "Oh, God."

"I won't tell Finn," Kurt assured him. "I wouldn't deprive you of the pleasure."

Somehow he hadn't even worried about that. Kurt was - trustworthy. _What's said in the men's room stays in the men's room? _Puck opened his mouth, closed it, and tried again.

"Finn is my best friend. So why am I so determined to treat him like crap? I mean, sometimes he is a wuss, but he didn't really do anything to deserve it." And of all the reasons he could have chosen to rip him a new one, he didn't need to pick obnoxious, status-conscious, self-absorbed _Quinn._ "She's not worth - She was just a - Finn is way more - "

My head pulsed and my lip throbbed. Puck remembered the look in Finn's eyes when he'd punched him, and his dick throbbed in response. He groaned and lay his head back against the bathroom wall. "What the fuck is _up_ with me?" he roared.

Kurt crouched down gingerly beside Puck, distastefully balancing himself so as not to touch the admittedly less than sterile floor with his hands.

"If I may make a suggestion?"

"Be my guest," Puck said.

"You clearly have things you need to say to Finn. So - talk to me. Pretend I'm him. I won't judge and I won't interrupt. It'll give you a chance to sort out your thoughts. Then you can go and apologize. Finn's a good guy. He'll understand."

Puck gave a short bark of laughter. It sounded a little bit like a sob. "Yeah, well, I don't think he'd understand _this_."

"Then you can decide how much you really want to tell him after you figure it all out. Come on, Noah, you're a mess. Trust me, I know - I'm an expert on denial." He peeled the wrapping off the bandaid and pressed it against Puck's oozing chin, then he sat back on his heels and looked at him expectantly. "If you don't let it out, you're going to make yourself sick thinking about it."

Puck eyed Kurt balefully. "What are you, my therapist?"

Kurt's lip quirked. "Just an interested third party, trying to maintain peace and harmony in my environment. If you guys aren't speaking to each other, we're not going to get a lot of singing done, and we need all the practice we can get."

"Where do I start?" he groaned.

Kurt thought for a moment. "Try telling me - Finn - what you said before. About how you treat him. You said he doesn't deserve it?"

Puck closed his eyes, marshaling his thoughts. He tried to picture Finn there, waiting patiently. Finn always was.

"You... are the only one who treats me like a human being," Puck said slowly. "Everybody else expects me to be an asshole. Yeah, I pretty much am, I know, but you always gave me another chance. Even when we were kids. You've always been willing to let me try again, even when I don't deserve it."

Puck took a deep breath and let it out, continuing. "The thing is, I treat you like crap anyway. I have no idea why you haven't kicked my ass a thousand times. I'm a jerk. And I want you to know... I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Finn, and I can't promise I'll never be a jerk to you again, but here's me doing the best I can. You're a good friend - maybe my only real friend - and I... well, I guess I'm glad you're still around."

Puck opened his eyes to Kurt's thoughtful expression. "Okay," he allowed. "That was good. Really good. Now tell Finn why you slept with Quinn."

"I can't tell him about that," he snapped.

"So pretend you could."

"Kurt, I'm - I'm not ready to talk about it," he said, looking at Kurt pleadingly. "Really."

"Then when? This is a limited time offer."

Puck closed his eyes. "Give me until after sectionals."

"Too long. How's Sunday?"

"Fine." He looked up at Kurt, defeated. "Want me to come to your office, doc?"

"I'll be helping out in my dad's shop. Meet me there at noon." Kurt stood up and stretched his stiff legs, snapping the first aid kit shut. "You've got three days to sort this out, Noah." Then he strode out.

Puck looked after him, bemused, but feeling calmer, his headache subsiding, his muscles relaxing for the first time in days.

There was no reason he couldn't tell Finn all the things he'd just said to Kurt. He was his best friend. He deserved it. An apology was what he - what Puck - needed. And all that other stuff (Puck really wasn't ready to think about it) - it could wait.

_Time to man up, Puckerman._


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt's father's shop was not what Puck had expected. Kurt came out of the tire store wearing dirty coveralls. They weren't even pink. "Dude," said Puck, setting down his picnic basket. "I was guessing your dad was a florist or a hairdresser. This place… well, it's kind of…"

"Kind of what?" Kurt said, raising an eyebrow and wiping his greasy hands with a moist towlette.

"Not much like you," Puck admitted.

Kurt shrugged, sitting on the edge of the desk by the cash register and crossing his legs. "Everybody says I'm more like my mom."

"What does she do?"

"She's dead," said Kurt, rubbing hand lotion into his cuticles.

"Oh," said Puck. He was silent for a minute. "My dad took off when I was nine," he said.

"What was he like?" Kurt asked.

"You don't want to know."

Kurt nodded and pressed his lips together. "I'll admit it's a little strange to be having a conversation with you, Noah. You and I don't have the best track record."

"I know. Rachel said I'm a jerk. I think I'm used to being a jerk."

Kurt inclined his head. "I didn't think you'd actually come today."

"Yeah, I wasn't sure I would either. But here I am. I even brought lunch." Puck opened the picnic basket and he smiled at the expression on Kurt's face.

"Did you… make this?" Puck nodded, and Kurt furrowed his brow. "What is it with football players bringing me food?" he murmured absently. Then he bent down and smelled the aroma drifting from the basket, and the expression on his face turned to pure enjoyment. Puck thought it looked good on him.

"Oh my god." He gasped, unwrapping a pastry stuffed with fish, spinach and hollandaise. "Salmon en croute? I saw Jean-Christophe Novelli make these on Bravo. He is a _genius_." He looked at Puck incredulously. "Who the hell are you, and what did you do with Noah Puckerman?"

"I'm guessing there's a lot you don't know about me," Puck grinned, opening a container of brie and a box of crackers. "Dig in. There's strawberries and cream for dessert."

Kurt stopped to take off his coveralls as Puck set up the picnic lunch on the table, then he joined Puck at the table. Kurt took a bite of the salmon en croute and moaned his approval. "So do you… do this often?" He gazed at Puck curiously.

"What, have lunch with strange guys?"

Kurt choked on his salmon. "No! I mean _cook." _

Puck nodded. "Yeah. Pretty much all the time, now. My mom, she's a nurse, and she's worked nights since I was a little kid. My brother didn't want to cook for us, and my sister's five years younger than me. So it was pretty much up to me."

"You were on your own?"

"Not exactly." Puck swallowed. "Not at first. My dad was home with us starting when I was six. He… wasn't around much. My brother was there until a few years ago. He's four years older than me. But he took off when I was twelve."

Puck watched Kurt's hands as he neatly spread six crackers with brie and arranged them on his plate before investigating the strawberries. He opened the jar of double Devon cream and took a moderate spoonful. "So you taught yourself how to cook?"

"And bake, and whatever. I like to eat," Puck said simply. "And luckily my friends like to eat too." He gestured at Kurt's plate. "You like it."

"Yeah," Kurt said emphatically, through a mouthful of strawberries and cream. "I do. Who wouldn't?"

"You'd be surprised. Lots of girls don't like to eat." Puck snorted. "They're too worried about being fat."

"Ah." Kurt's brows raised. "Girls. No, I've never really understood them myself."

"I say, food is awesome. Why deny yourself?" He took a huge bite of salmon. "I'm good at three things. Food and music are two of them."

"What's the th—?" Kurt cut himself off, turning red at Puck's smirk. "Oh. Touché."

"Yeah." Then Puck grimaced. "But the honesty? Not so good at that." He sighed. "So I'm here. What's next, Dr. Hummel? You got a psychiatrist couch in the back somewhere?"

Kurt opened his hands and looked around at the squalid office. "This is it. Sorry."

"Whatever. Just tell me what to do."

Kurt looked at him, evaluating. "Tell me about what happened with Quinn."

Puck sighed. "It was totally a mistake. We were both really drunk. I don't know what I was thinking." He shrugged. "It just happened. I don't even like her very much. I mean, she's hot… but she's kind of cold, too."

"Hmm. And you don't plan to tell Finn."

"No." Puck squirmed. "I… I don't like lying to him, but I don't see how I can do it. It's kind of too late, isn't it?"

"You lie about a lot of things, don't you, Noah?"

"I don't…" He shifted uncomfortably.

"Oh, come on." Kurt numbered his fingers. "You put pot in the cupcakes. Then you tried to steal the money to give to Quinn for her baby. What else are you lying about?"

"How did you –"

Kurt put up a hand. "Just stop me if I get anything wrong, okay? You don't care about lying to other people. It doesn't bother you. You know it should, but it doesn't. You do it to get what you want, or when the rules don't seem fair, or when you want to help someone you love. But you don't want to lie to Finn." He cocked an eyebrow. "How am I doing so far?"

Puck had gone pale. He tried to speak, but then changed his mind and just nodded.

"Something about lying to Finn makes you uncomfortable… makes you feel bad. It might be the first time you've ever felt like that."

Puck was horrified to feel his eyes filling up, but he couldn't look away from Kurt. He nodded again, blinking.

"But you said, the other day – you do things to him. That you're a jerk, to him." Puck nodded a third time, feeling helpless. "What? What else did you do?"

Puck cleared his throat. "I… made out with Rachel. I knew it would bother him, but I did it anyway."

"Yeah? _Did_ it bother him?"

"Well, he said it didn't, but I could tell—"

"What else?"

"Other girls. Lots of them. The girls Finn likes – I take them away from him."

"Hmm. He doesn't seem too worried by it, does he?" Kurt looked almost amused. "What else?"

"Quinn. I gave her money – for the baby. Finn couldn't get a job. I wanted – I wanted to help."

"You wanted to help? But you just said you were being a jerk."

"I was, okay?" Puck shouted, slapping the table suddenly. "He wasn't paying attention, and I knew this would piss him off." He sat back, slowly. "That's why I did it."

"Wasn't paying attention?" Kurt stopped eating. "To what?"

Puck closed his eyes. He breathed in, out. "To _me," _he whispered. "He wasn't paying attention… to _me."_

"That's why you keep trying to piss him off. To get him to notice you."

There was a terrifying sensation in Puck's chest. He felt naked, exposed. "Yes."

"And it doesn't work. So you have to keep pushing him, doing things to get him to notice."

Kurt's voice was hypnotic. Puck's head dropped, and he breathed more deeply. "Yes."

"Is that why you hit him? Did you want to hurt him?"

"No!" His head snapped up. "I _don't._ That's what I don't get. _I don't want to hurt him."_ He looked around, wildly. "He's my best friend."

"You just want him to do something."

"Yeah!"

Kurt leaned in. "What do you want him to do?" he said, intensely.

Puck looked at Kurt, opened his mouth, and didn't say anything.

"Okay." Kurt backed off. "It's okay. You don't have to answer that." He crossed his arms across his chest. "So now, you're feeling stuck. Because you lied, and this" – he shook his hand vaguely – "happened, and you can't tell the truth without hurting him, _really_ hurting him."

"No," he whispered, brokenly. "Fuck. I just… need someone to tell me what to do."

"Yeah?" Kurt ate the last bite of brie. "Okay. I'll tell you what you need to do."

Puck leaned forward, hungrily. "What?"

"First, you need to tell Finn what you told me on Thursday in the restroom. That you're sorry for being a jerk, and that you want to try to do better. Do you think you can do that?"

Puck nodded, slowly. "Yeah, I can do that."

"But you don't think you can tell him about Quinn?"

"No." He looked pleadingly at Kurt. "Don't you ever think that telling a lie is better than the truth, sometimes?"

Kurt was silent for a moment. "Sometimes." He sighed. "You know, I blew that note at the diva-off on purpose."

"What?"

"High F is definitely in my wheelhouse. I can sing _Defying Gravity_ in my sleep." He laughed. "Sometimes I do."

"So… you threw the competition? Why?"

"It was because of my dad. I might be ready to deal with the consequences of singing a girl's song in public, but _he _isn't. I don't like hiding who I am, but sometimes it's not just about me." He brushed his hair back. "I told him I love him more than I love being a star."

"That's –" Puck nodded approvingly. "That's pretty awesome. You've got guts, Kurt."

"So do you, Noah." He smiled at Puck. "You can do this. It'll help. I'm not sure it's enough to make you feel completely better, though. Lying like this – it takes a toll on a person."

He stretched and cracked his back. "God, tell me about it."

"Yes – tell _him_ about it. Tell him as much as you can."

"Then what, doc?"

Kurt smiled. "Go do this, then come back and tell _me_ all about how it went. Then I'll... write you a new prescription."

"Thanks, Kurt. You're fucking good at this. And… I trust you. You won't tell anybody?" Kurt shook his head, and Puck touched Kurt on the arm, gently, then gathered the empty dishes back into the picnic basket. "But what are _you_ getting out of it? What can…" He suddenly blinked, and coughed, embarrassed. "What can I do for you?"

Kurt's eyes gleamed. "Cook for me again, and we'll call it even."


	3. Chapter 3

Finn found himself not looking at Puck as they passed each other in the hall, just as Puck had done for the past several days. So he was more than startled when Puck stepped in front of him and put a hand on his chest. "Wait," Puck said. "I need to talk to you."

"Um, sure, okay," said Finn, blinking. He had to make an effort not to grab Puck's hand and hold it to his chest, just a moment longer. They were not exactly affectionate with one another, but Finn was used to a certain amount of contact with Puck, between football and goofy wrestling around, and he realized he'd missed it. A lot.

Puck looked at the flow of high school traffic surrounding them, and beckoned Finn to follow him around the corner and down the stairs, out of the view of inquisitive eyes.

"I want to say I'm sorry," Puck said, in a rush, as though he were trying to get it out. "I've been a real jerk to you… to everyone, really. For a long time. I've done a lot of things I'm not proud of. But you… you've always been there for me. You've been my friend when other people gave up on me. My dad, my brother, they took off… but you were still there. Even when I didn't deserve it."

"Hey," Finn said, but Puck was shaking his head, reaching out (_reaching out)_ and putting a hand over his mouth. _God. _ Finn kept his traitorous mouth closed, his lips firmly not touching Puck's hand, his tongue not… he swallowed.

"I need to say this, okay?" said Puck. "You had your turn last weekend."

Finn nodded.

"Okay," Puck said, taking a deep breath, moving his hand away. "Okay. Yeah." He ran his hand over his head. Finn followed the hand with his eyes.

"Are you all right?" Finn asked (half-hoping that maybe, if he interrupted enough times, Puck would put the hand back on his mouth).

"I'm fine," Puck snapped. He stopped and closed his eyes briefly, taking another breath. "Yes. I'm all right. This is just… well, dudes don't do this kind of talking. I'm not used to it with you."

"I don't mind," said Finn. "I mean, I'm not so good at it either, but it's okay. I want to hear… anything you want to tell me."

"Yeah?" Puck didn't look at him. "I'm not sure I believe that."

"You know me, Puck," Finn said softly. "Just like I know you. We've known each other a long time. We have to start trusting one another."

"But that's just it, man." Puck chewed on his lip, and Finn watched with avid interest. "I've done some things that tell me I'm not someone you should be trusting."

"Well, then, trust _me._ Tell me what you did. There's no way it could be so bad that –"

"I slept with Quinn," Puck said.

Finn felt it like a body blow, heavier than any hit Puck had ever given him. Puck's shoulders lifted a little, with the lie undone, and he let out the tension in a shuddering breath. Then all the rest spilled out.

"It was one time, one stupid party. I swear, it didn't mean anything to either of us. She was drunk and I was drunk and we just –"

"Stop," Finn choked out. "I can't – I'm sorry –" He ran up the stairs.

"Finn," Puck cried, and there was _anguish_, and Finn saw actual _fear_ in his face. He remembered what Puck had looked like during the thunderstorm. This fear was the same.

Finn stopped, got a grip. _Puck…_ _I won't let you be abandoned, not this time. _He slowly turned around and sat on the stairs. There was no one in the hallway now. "C'mere," he said.

Puck climbed the stairs before Finn, then sank down on the step in front of him. "C'mere," Finn repeated, and opened his arms. Puck let out a gasping sob, a noise Finn had never heard him make, not in eight years of friendship. It hurt his heart, much as than the words _I slept with Quinn_ had.

He hugged Puck to him, held him tight in arms that had ached to hold him for so long - long before he could possibly have articulated such a desire. He stroked his back and rocked him a little, while Puck cried and said, over and over, "God, Finn, I am so, so sorry, I'm so sorry."

"It's okay, Puck, it's okay, really," he murmured. But he wasn't at all sure, not at all, as a fear began to build in his heart, right alongside the incandescent pleasure of touching Puck, and he marveled at the possibility that he could feel so bad and so good at the same time.

"I wanted to tell you, but I was so fucking _scared," _Puck whimpered. "This is me, dude – _I _don't _get_ scared."

_Yeah, you do,_ Finn wanted to say, but he knew it could wait. "It's okay," he said again, and stroked a hand down Puck's head, down his neck and back, and again.

"It was because – because it was _you,_" Puck said. "I couldn't lose _you._"

"You won't lose me," Finn promised, reverberating with this revelation. "Not ever. I'm not going anywhere."

Finn felt like they could have stayed in that position for the rest of the afternoon, Puck resting between his legs, wrapped in his long arms, stroking his head and neck and back, feeling Puck's breathing ease as his crying stilled and his tears dried. Every few moments, Finn would feel the shock anew, the repeating monologue of _oh, Puck slept with Quinn… but here he is, you're holding him, and it's good, it's more than cool, it's so good, but oh, Puck slept with Quinn…_

Finn had no concept of how long it had actually been when Puck slowly pulled himself up and out of Finn's embrace. _That was our embrace,_ Finn marveled. _I had an embrace with… Puck. _"Puck," he said, then stopped.

"Don't say it," said Puck. "Unless it's something good, I don't think I can hear it. Please. Just… can we let it be, just for a second? We can talk later."

"No, it's… it's good," said Finn, and Puck looked at him, eyes wide. Finn reached out a hand and took Puck's, felt its strength, the fine calluses from playing guitar. "It's more than good," he said, feeling daring, and brought Puck's fingers to his lips.

"Boys?" called a voice. They automatically dropped each other's hands and stepped away from each other, losing eye contact and moving to stand beside one another. Principal Figgins came into view at the top of the stairs. "What are you doing out of class?" he demanded. "Do you have a hall pass?"

"Uh," said Finn, but Puck pulled two index cards out of his pocket, palmed one, crammed it into Finn's back pocket and handed the first one to Figgins.

"Here you go, Principal Figgins," said Puck.

Finn reached into the pocket that had just been smoothly defiled and lifted out a perfectly detailed hall pass. "We were just… just… wrapping things up here."

"I'll come by your house tonight," Puck said, "and we can finish this, okay?" The way he was _not looking_ at Finn now was completely different from the way he'd _not looked_ at Finn earlier that day.

"Okay," Finn said, and his entire body _glowed_. He thought it was impossible that Puck and Figgins weren't blinded by the light of his blush.

He watched Puck walk up the stairs before him, enjoying the view through an entirely new lens of possibility. And suddenly he was reminded of watching another boy go up the stairs in much the same way, just days ago, and he thought: _Kurt._ He had no idea what this was going to mean for them. His brain felt a little muddled and overfull of hormones and images. He couldn't even process them all. He just kept walking up the stairs and followed Puck down the hall, watched him disappear into a different room and shut the door, and Principal Figgins delivered him safely to algebra.

He slid into the empty seat beside Kurt (_oh, god) _and behind Quinn (_oh, god)_, and took refuge in looking for his notebook in his backpack for a few moments, before he had to face their questioning looks.

"Where were you?" Quinn whispered crossly. "You missed Larry dropping the chalk into his pants. It was priceless."

"Puck had something he wanted to tell me," he whispered back, and Kurt straightened beside him, looking quickly at Finn before looking equally quickly back to his book.

"Everything okay?" Quinn asked, and she sounded more nervous this time.

"Okay for who?" he said, and Mrs. Greene said, "Quiet in the back, there," and they fell silent for a time. Quinn gave him a few meaningful looks, but he did not meet them, and when Kurt nudged him with his toe, Finn shook his head.

He wanted to live for a few moments in a world where Quinn and Kurt and Mrs. Greene and algebra and the rest of McKinley High did not matter, where the only factors were himself and Puck, and Puck had said he wanted _him,_ had let Finn hold him and stroke him and seemed perfectly okay with these things, had _wanted them._ With _Finn. _He had a hard time believing it was true, that it wouldn't vanish after today was over, and return to the realm of dreams. He held them close in his mind, and petted them and kept them safe, just for a little while. He found himself smiling stupidly at his own hands, twisted in front of himself, remembering the fingers they had held only moments ago, and the way he had (had he really?) pressed them to his lips. He touched his lips now to see if they felt any different.

_Puck, _he thought gleefully. _Oh, god. _

When the bell rang, Kurt gave him one quick look, the one that meant _You'd better call me or there will be hell to pay,_ and then strode out, leaving him to walk with Quinn. She was quiet, nibbling on her bottom lip, which Finn knew meant she was feeling vulnerable. He reached out and took her hand, and they walked in silence down the hall.

"What did he tell you," she asked in a low voice.

"He said you guys… hooked up," he said, and he was proud that his voice didn't even quiver once.

"Oh," she said, and looked up at him. "Finn, I'm sorry I didn't –"

"I'm not even angry at you," he said, and shockingly, amazingly, he wasn't. "Or Puck. I know it was just a one time thing, and you chose me, anyway." Then he looked at her, perplexed. "You chose me over him?" he said, wondering. "Why?" _How could you not want him, when I know how much I want him myself? _He laughed.

Quinn's eyes widened. "Yes, Finn – I did choose you," she stammered, "and I still want to be with you. Puck – he's a Lima loser, he's not like you –"

"No, he's not," Finn said, and his voice was louder than he'd meant it to be. "He's not," he insisted, a little more quietly.

"Okay," she said, confused, but put a pacifying hand on his arm. "Whatever you say. I want to be with you, Finn."

"Okay," he said, putting an arm around her, more out of habit than anything else, but also for the comfort of the normalcy of it. He smelled her hair and looked down the hallway, but didn't see Puck's Mohawk anywhere.

"So we're all right?" she said, smiling.

"Yeah, we're good," he agreed. But he did not allow himself to ask the fear-filled question that lurked around them as they hugged, and he felt the bump of her belly pushing against his.


	4. Chapter 4

Puck got to Kurt's dad's tire store before Kurt got home. He'd skipped the rest of the school day to go to the Lima farmer's market and pick up some fresh vegetables and a few other things to make dinner. He wasn't sure if Kurt ate meat, but he'd seemed to like the salmon, so he decided it was an acceptable risk.

No one was in the office when he came in, so he rang the bell on the desk and waited, running his hand over his head. He could still feel Finn's hands stroking his hair, and he marveled at how such an action could cause him to feel calm and excited at the same time.

It seemed to Puck that all the events of today should have bothered him a lot more than they had, but all he felt was a sense of great peace, and confidence that Finn would know the right things to do. He guessed Kurt would know how to deal with the rest. He wasn't sure how he'd come to depend on Kurt so much in the past few days, but it felt… good.

Finally a short, balding man wearing a baseball cap came out. "Sorry to take so long; we're a little busy today," he said. "Can I help you?"

"I'm supposed to meet Kurt," Puck said.

The man looked him up and down, taking in his shorn head and the picnic basket. "Are you a friend from school?" he asked, guardedly.

"Yeah. Kurt's helping me with a problem," he said. Belatedly, he stuck out his hand. "I'm Noah Puckerman. They call me Puck."

"Ah, that shrewd and knavish sprite," shaking Puck's hand.

"Feared in field and town," Puck agreed. The man laughed, surprised, and Puck shrugged. "With a name like Puck, I found it was good to be prepared with a little Shakespeare," he added. "It impresses the girls."

"And friend's fathers," said the man, nodding. "I'm Burt, Kurt's dad. You guys need a place to study?"

"I think we're going to start with dinner," Puck said, holding up the basket.

Burt paused. "Ah. So, is this a…" he cleared his throat. "A date?"

"No, just a working dinner," Puck said, unperturbed.

"Okay," Burt said. "Well, Kurt's not back from school yet. You guys can use the back room, but it's not the cleanest. I'm sorry, I really need to get back to the cars. I'm short one guy today."

"You need a hand?" Puck asked.

"You know your way around an oil change?" Burt asked. Puck nodded. "That would be great. Usually Kurt helps out when he gets home, but if you guys are going to be busy, I appreciate the help now."

Burt handed Puck a set of coveralls. "That your F-150 out there?" Puck nodded again. "She looks like she's in good shape."

"She was my dad's truck," he said. "He took good care of her. She's been having some electrical problems, though. I replaced the fuse box, but the lights are still not working right."

"I can take a look at that sometime if you want to bring her in," Burt offered, and Puck smiled.

They worked for nearly an hour. Puck found Burt easy company, and he showed him more than one trick about changing oil that Puck hadn't known before. He noticed Burt kept checking the time, though, and the lines on his forehead went deeper every time he looked.

"There wasn't any Glee rehearsal today," said Puck, starting to feel worried. "Where do you think he could be?"

"Let me give him another call," Burt said. But Kurt wasn't picking up his cell, nor answering texts.

"I can drive over to school, see if he's there," Puck offered, and Burt shook his head.

"I'll go over to the house first, then try some of his usual haunts. Would you wait here, just in case he comes back? Here's my cell number." Puck put Burt's number into his phone and watched as Burt ran out to his truck and disappeared down the street.

Puck texted Finn: _I'm gonna be late._

Immediately, Finn responded: _RUOK?_

_Kurt is missing,_ Puck texted. _You seen him?_

_No - I'll text Mercedes._

_Let me know if you find him, _sent Puck.

_See u soon?_

Puck felt a warmth spreading in his chest. _ASAP._

It was starting to get dark outside when Puck heard the back door open. He stood and looked around the corner to see Kurt walk slowly in and look furtively around the shop. Puck thought he could see a bruise on his cheek. "Kurt," he hissed, and Kurt jumped before turning to see Puck. "Where were you?"

"Is my dad here?" Kurt said softly.

Puck shook his head. "He's out looking for you." Now he could see that the left side of Kurt's face was covered with multiple bruises. His shirt was torn and his jacket was covered with woodchips. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Can you call him and let him know I'm okay?" he said, turning away.

"Dude, you're not okay," Puck said.

"It's not so bad," Kurt said. "A few minutes with a concealer stick and I'll be good as new." Then he hissed as Puck touched his shoulder.

"Who did this to you?" Puck asked uneasily. Kurt didn't answer. "Was it Karofsky and the other jocks? I can kick their asses for you if you want."

Kurt smiled wanly. "Look, I just don't want my dad to come home and find me like this. Call him and I'll go get cleaned up."

"Okay," Puck said, not at all certain, but willing to take Kurt's lead. "I can warm up dinner."

"I'm not really very hungry," said Kurt.

"There's fois gras and cheddar corn muffins," Puck said, and was rewarded by the astonished look on Kurt's face. "I'll get it ready, and you can eat what you want, okay?"

"Thanks, Noah." Kurt gave Puck a grateful look before disappearing into the bathroom.

Burt said he would be home right away. He sounded utterly relieved. Then Puck sent a quick text to Finn to let him know Kurt had returned and to pass on the word.

When Kurt came out of the bathroom, he looked more or less himself, hair and clothes in place, bruises concealed, face only slightly flushed. He stopped when he saw the tablecloth, dishes and food spread out on the work table in the back room. "Noah? Is that – wine?" he asked.

"Just a cheap Gewurztraminer," Puck said, unscrewing the cap. "It's all I could steal on such short notice."

Kurt shot Puck a startled look, then relaxed at the teasing grin on his face. "I wouldn't put it past you," he murmured, then touched the sliced baguette (stale), the sautéed asparagus and Brussels sprouts (soggy) and the cheddar corn muffins with jalapeño butter (cold). Puck poured the wine into plastic champagne flutes. "This is incredible, Noah. Thank you."

"The fois gras isn't real – it's made humanely; the duck livers are mixed with fat. I saw a video on YouTube all about how they used to forcefeed them to make their livers huge. It's nasty. Anyway, this is still pretty good." He handed Kurt a slice of bread with the "faux gras" spread on top and a jar of boysenberry preserves.

Kurt sipped his wine and nibbled the bread, nodding approvingly. "I've heard of that. It's really lovely." He looked away. "I'm sorry I was late. Are you ready to talk?"

"Hold on, Kurt – I should be asking _you_ the same question." Puck felt a little angry. "You can't just come in here all beat up like that and expect –"

"Noah." His quiet voice stopped Puck.

"What?"

"Think about it." He looked at Puck sideways. "A few months ago, it was you doing this to me."

"I never _hit_ you," hissed Puck, face aflame.

"No, you never did," Kurt agreed. "But this – this _is_ my life. I live it every day. You can't suddenly come into it and expect to change everything, not all at once."

"Why the hell not?" Puck looked intently at Kurt. "Look at me. I've had so many revelations in the past week, I should be a book of the Torah. How _hasn't_ my life changed, all at once? And you've been part of that. Why can't it be the same for you? Why _can't _I do something to make up for everything that has happened to you?"

Kurt was silent, eyes troubled.

"You didn't expect it, did you?" Puck's voice was soft. "You thought you could do this to me, and not get changed yourself. I don't think it works that way."

"Do… do what to you?" Kurt said.

"Kurt, I'm _different._ I'm _better._ Finn – and you – you did this." Puck laughed ruefully. "Plus, it looks like I'm kind of gay."

Kurt choked, one hand to his mouth, but his eyes were alight and he did not look away from Puck.

The front door rattled, and Puck hid the wine before Burt came in. "Kurt!"

"We're back here, dad," called Kurt, standing. His dad burst into the room and swept Kurt into a hug.

"Are you okay?" He held him at arm's length and looked at him carefully. "Kurt, we didn't know where you were. I was really worried when you didn't return my calls."

"I'm okay," Kurt said.

"What happened?"

Kurt didn't look at Puck. "I locked my phone and my keys inside the car. It took a while for me to find someone who could help me open it up."

"Jesus, Kurt, how many times have I told you to make an extra key and keep it in that magnet thing under the front door?" Burt stopped and glanced around, noticing the dinner laid out for the first time. "Gee, this is the nicest working dinner I've ever seen," he said, giving Puck a perplexed look.

"I like to cook," he said.

"Well… thanks for keeping an eye on things while I was out looking for this fella." Burt put a hand on the shoulder Puck had touched earlier. Kurt winced, but Burt didn't notice. "And thanks for helping out with the store earlier, Puck. You did pretty good. You'd better watch out, or I might offer you a job."

Kurt cleared his throat. "Uh, dad, Puck and I have… work to do."

"Nice to meet you, Burt," said Puck. Burt left them alone, but Puck noticed he didn't close the door.

Kurt sighed, set the wine back on the table, and gestured at the seat across from him. "Come on. Let's eat something, then we'll talk."

They didn't say anything for a few minutes, making short work of Puck's food, which, even cold, was delicious. Kurt ate some of everything and looked more himself when dinner was over.

"So… tell me what happened today." Puck's face lit up involuntarily. Kurt smiled back. "Come on. Details are like crack to me."

"I… told him. I told him… almost everything. About me and Quinn, and about me and… him. And he… well, at first he freaked out, and tried to run, but then he stopped – and he stayed." He closed his eyes, caught in the memory of that moment, held in Finn's arms.

"Magical," said Kurt, smiling. Then he cocked an eyebrow. "Almost everything?"

"I… didn't tell him about the baby."

Kurt stared. "You didn't."

"No. He didn't ask, and I was too busy, um… being emotional."

Kurt drained his glass of wine and set it on the table. "Kind of a crucial detail, Noah, don't you think!" he yelled.

"Yes," Puck groaned. "Shit. I know."

Kurt reached out and grabbed Puck's hands. "You owe this to him. He deserves your honesty. You have to tell him this last thing."

Puck now looked miserable. "… Yes."

"Do it now. Before it gets too easy to lie to him again. When will you see him?"

"I'm going over there now."

"Good. You don't want to hurt him, but this is better. Get it over with. Didn't he forgive you for everything else?"

"Yes," he whispered.

Kurt stood up, gathering dishes and napkins and folding them back into the picnic basket. "Well, then, he'll forgive you this. It'll be okay. Think of what you did today. It'll be one awful moment in exchange for the truth. That's better for both of you." He reached up and held Puck by the shoulders, looking into his face. "You can do this."

"You know, you're kind of a hypocrite," said Puck.

"W – what?" Kurt stammered.

"You tell me how important it is to tell the truth, but you just lied to your dad. I'm guessing it's not the first time you've ever done that. I bet you feel about as good about it as I feel about lying to Finn."

Kurt looked at the floor. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. "You're right," he said. "I don't want to hurt him… but lying is worse."

"So are you going to tell him?"

"Uh…"

"Tonight," pressed Puck.

Kurt nodded, once, twice.

Puck crushed Kurt in a sudden hug. When he let him go, Kurt looked stunned and breathless.

"Call me later if you get freaked out," Kurt said.

"Okay. And - I left dessert in the fridge, if _you_ get freaked out," Puck grinned. "Chocolate amaretto mousse."

Kurt groaned. "Oh, Noah, you definitely know the way to a man's heart."

He raised an eyebrow wickedly. "It's one of three, anyway."


	5. Chapter 5

"Mom?" Finn knocked lightly on the door, then went in at his mom's quiet invitation. Carole lay on the right side of her bed (the left side usually went untouched) wrapped in her awful red and white bathrobe, reading a book. She smiled when Finn came in.

"Hi, sweetie," she said, patting the bed. "It's nice to see you. You going to bed?"

"I'm still waiting for Puck," he said. "He's on his way over now."

"Now? It's kind of late," Carole said, yawning and craning her neck to see the digital clock. "It's almost midnight. Can't things with Puck wait until tomorrow?"

"I don't think so," Finn said honestly. _I don't think I could possibly wait one more day._

"You've been spending so much time over at Kurt's house, I was surprised to see you home at all," she said.

"Yeah. Um. I guess he had something else going on."

"You guys haven't had an argument, have you?"

"No, it's fine." _You see, mom, I felt awkward hanging out at Kurt's house to cuddle and make out when I'm really thinking about Puck. Yeah, that would go over well._

"How about Quinn? Are you two still dating? I feel like I never see her anymore either."

"Yeah, I still see her. She… has a lot going on right now."

Carole stretched and set her book on the table upside-down to hold her place. "Well, you might invite her over for dinner some night. She seems like a nice girl. I wouldn't want her to feel ignored."

Finn smiled at his mom. "Thanks, Mom, that's a good idea. I might do that."

"Good night, sweetie. Don't you and Puck stay up too late." He closed his mom's bedroom door behind him and went downstairs to wait impatiently by the front door.

Now that he thought about it, he hadn't had too many days that week, or the week before, that hadn't been spent hanging out at Kurt's after dinner. They didn't always spend their time together making out, although a good portion of their time together was spent touching, even if it was only hands or knees. Mostly they relaxed on Kurt's couch and watched movies or did their homework. Finn felt suddenly guilty that he'd left Kurt at home tonight without so much as a second thought.

But – what had Puck said in his text? _Kurt was missing._ That implied Puck knew where Kurt should have been after school, which was usually helping out at his dad's tire shop. What was Puck doing hanging out with Kurt? As far as Finn knew, they were barely on speaking terms.

He picked up his phone and sent a quick text to Kurt. _You awake?_

It wasn't long before the response came: _Wide. How'd things go with Noah?_

_He's coming over now, _he texted.

_Good luck. Waiting to hear about it._

Finn felt a warm rush of affection for Kurt, mixed with more guilt. Finn was experienced with guilt, and this wasn't the first time he'd felt it in regards to Kurt. Kurt had made it clear that their relationship was of the friends-with-benefits variety, but sometimes he wondered how Kurt could be so supportive of Finn's desire for Puck when it was clearly going to interfere with their… thing.

A thing which, Finn had decided, was _smoking hot._ He'd never had a… thing with anyone where there was such mutual desire _and_ a complete lack of embarrassment. All the girls he'd dated had put rigid rules on what was allowed or how far they would go, and they never seemed to really be willing to let go and _enjoy_ what they were doing together. Kurt… was entirely into it. He knew what he wanted, and wasn't afraid to ask for it. So far he hadn't come up with anything Finn wasn't willing to try, although there was plenty they hadn't done. It had been a quick and concise education (_for both of them_, Finn thought, for all that Kurt seemed to know what he was doing, Finn thought it was his first time for most of it too) regarding dudes with dudes. And Finn, and Finn's body, approved wholeheartedly. There was no ambiguity about that.

But Puck – Finn was flooded by memories of their encounter in the hallway, for about the hundredth time that day – it was more than physical desire he felt for Puck, though that was definitely there too. They'd been friends for years. Puck wasn't always the nicest guy, but Finn felt loyalty to him, and respect, and a desire to… take care of him. Protect him. Which was weird, because Puck was pretty bad-ass. He didn't need protecting, did he?

He looked up at the knock on his door, and tried to restrain the enormous smile that threatened to split his face in two.

Finn unlocked the deadbolt and opened the door to see Puck, hands in the pockets of his football jacket, looking positively shy, but clearly happy to see Finn. "Hey," he said.

"Hey," Finn echoed. They stood looking at one another, smiling stupidly, for a few seconds. Then Finn laughed, and Puck laughed, and it was a little easier to breathe.

"C'mon in. My mom's asleep upstairs." Finn blushed a little, realizing with this sentence he was introducing the standard, unspoken limits regarding what was OK to do in the house when one's parents were home: _no drugs, no total nudity, no penetration. _Not that he would… Finn's blush deepened.

"So, I wanted to tell you," Puck said, taking off his jacket, "that Kurt got beat up today after school."

"_What?"_ Finn gasped. "Is – is he okay? What happened?"

"He wouldn't tell me the details, but he's got some bruises, on his face. I think his shoulder is screwed up." Puck's mouth tightened. "He tried to hide it from his dad, but I convinced him to tell him."

"You – convinced…?" Finn's brow knitted. "Are you and Kurt, like, buddies or something?"

"I don't know," Puck shrugged. "Something, I guess. He helped me with some problems I was stuck on."

"Jeez." Finn ran a hand through his hair, thinking of Kurt, alone at home, and felt more guilt. "This is totally not fair. I've got to do something about those assholes."

"Yeah. We will," Puck said, surprising him. "You'll think of something." He threw himself onto the couch, then took a deep breath. "Finn… there's something else. I have to say it first, or I'm gonna lose my nerve."

"Uh, okay," Finn said, sitting next to him. "You can say anything."

"I believe you," Puck said. "It's about Quinn. About… what I said earlier."

"… okay," Finn said again, a sense of dread gathering in his stomach.

"You and Quinn, you never had sex. Did you?"

"I – no. We didn't. How did you –"

"It's because she told me it was a mistake, what we did. She said she was saving herself – whatever that means. But I guess it was for you. She wanted it to be you." Puck looked at him, straight. "But it wasn't you."

Finn's mouth was dry. He closed his eyes. "What are you saying?"

"You know what I'm saying."

"I need to hear you say it," Finn said, gritting his teeth. "Just fucking say it, okay?"

"You're not that baby's daddy," said Puck. "I am."

Finn was silent. He felt dizzy. His face crumpled into confusion. "She – she told me…"

"I know what she told you. I've been kicking myself for not telling you right away, but she just kept lying, and I just went along with it. I _hate _lying to you." Puck turned and hit the wall suddenly, shaking his head. "Finn, I'm sorry, I—"

"Just… don't." Finn stood up and walked into the kitchen.

"Finn?" He could hear an echo of the fear from before in Puck's voice, and he turned around.

"I'm not – I'm not walking away. I just need – just give me a minute." Finn clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to deal with the anger without scaring Puck, without making him the enemy. _Quinn did this. It was her. She tried to get me to take responsibility for that baby. She made me fall in love with it. _He felt sick. _Quinn – and Puck's baby._ He let out a muted roar of frustration.

"Finn." Puck was in the door. "I need to know what I can do. To make up for this. What can I do?" He looked pleadingly at Finn. "Just tell me what to do."

"I don't know!" Finn shouted.

"You can hit me if you want." Puck's voice was hardly a whisper.

"No!"

"I think – " Puck let out a shuddering breath. "I think I need you to."

"Puck, I'm not your dad," Finn said angrily. "I'm not going to beat you up because I can't control myself."

"I know you're not," Puck shouted back. "That's not – it's not the same at all. I _need this._ I need to do something to make it right again – inside here." He grabbed Finn's hand and put it on Puck's chest. Finn could feel his heart beating through his black t-shirt. Their eyes locked. Puck's gaze was desperate. "_Please."_

Finn didn't understand, but suddenly, looking at Puck, still holding his hand to his chest, he _did. _He got it. His face hardened, and he felt all the confusion leave him, looking down at Puck. He took his hand and grabbed Puck's t-shirt in his fist. He slammed him up against the wall, and Puck made a low noise, eyes never leaving Finn's.

Finn traced a rough path from Puck's firm stomach, up his chest to his throat, and wrapped a hand around his thick neck. "Is this what you need?" Finn said in a low voice.

"_God,_ yes," Puck gasped, and their lips met in a bruising, starved kiss. Finn dropped Puck's shirt and grabbed his hands, shoving them up against the wall, spreading him wide, and kissed him again. He could feel the vibration of Puck's moans as his tongue thrust into Puck's mouth. It was wet and dirty and _fuck, _so hot, so much what he needed.

Finn slid his hands under the hem of Puck's shirt and dragged it up over his rib cage, over his head, but kept it pulled taut over his shoulders, restricting Puck's movement. He could see Puck's arms resisting, his biceps straining at the fabric, and Finn incredulously ran his hands over those biceps, those arms that Puck was so proud of, now for Finn to touch. _His arms_, he suddenly thought. _For him._

"You're mine," Finn said, growling into Puck's mouth. "Mine."

Puck moaned louder, and Finn shut him up with his lips on his. Puck didn't resist as Finn pressed him up against the wall with his body, rubbing against him, feeling sparks as he encountered a matching hardness in Puck's jeans. He pulled Puck's shirt off the rest of the way and quickly shed his own, to feel Puck's brilliant, hot skin against his chest.

He slowed down, running the flat of his hands along Puck's neck and shoulders and back. Puck's skin was taut and firm, no extra fat anywhere that Finn could feel, his muscles rippling and contracting just under the surface. Finn had touched this body in his dreams so many times, but the reality was so, so much more thrilling than he'd imagined.

Finn looked into Puck's face, searching. He'd never seen it so open, so unguarded. "You really want me, like this," Finn said. It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," said Puck, his voice hoarse, licking his bruised lips. "Fuck, yeah."

"Right here?" Finn looked around, and Puck hesitated.

"Can we – go up to your room?"

"Yeah," said Finn, feeling a little faint at the thought of getting more naked with Puck in his bedroom, but he grabbed their shirts and took Puck by the hand, towing him along up the stairs and down the hall. No sound came from his mom's room.

Finn's little room was small enough to be a closet. His walls were covered with vintage cowboy wallpaper. The room was small enough that he could lay on his bed and close the door with one hand at the same time. He kind of liked it small. There wasn't anything he'd ever wanted to do in his room that required a lot of space. Until, possibly, now.

He pressed the door closed with his back and looked at Puck, face flushed and eyes on fire. "Do you… what do you want?"

Puck chuckled, a low, smoky voice. "Haven't you figured that out by now, Finn?" He stepped in close, wrapped his arms around Finn's waist and grabbed his ass. Finn caught his breath. "I want what _you_ want. I've always wanted what you want." His hands traced a pattern on Finn's lower back, just above his ass, that made him see stars and thrust helplessly against Puck's hip.

"Just… what _I_ want?" Finn gasped. "Are you sure?"

Puck leaned in and put his lips against Finn's ear. "Bring it," he breathed.


	6. Chapter 6

"Lock the door," Finn said, and Puck reached over to press the button.

"Don't want a surprise visit from Mom tonight?" Puck grinned.

"No, and that is _so_ not an image I want in my mind right now," Finn said, pointing an accusing finger in Puck's face. Puck effectively quashed Finn's ire by taking the finger in his mouth and using his tongue to... Finn let out a gasp, holding Puck's hips close, grinding against him.

"Like that?" Puck said, intrigued. He snaked a hand around between Finn's legs and found the shape of his cock, outlined against his jeans, and gripped it in the palm of his hand, offering pressure in just the right places. "Yeah, I guess you do," he hummed.

Finn buried his face in Puck's shoulder to muffle the noises coming from his mouth. He'd never been particularly vocal during sex before, and he was a little embarrassed. "Sl-slow down," he hissed.

Puck immediately moved his hand back to Finn's ribs and looked a facsimile of contrite. "Sorry," he drawled.

Finn wasn't sure how he'd lost control of the situation, but he wanted it back. It hadn't been like this with Kurt. There'd been mutual exploration, and they were talking and suggesting and giving feedback through the whole thing, with equal give and take. He realized Puck was probably used to taking the lead with girls, but he knew that wasn't what Puck wanted here, with him. It was up to Finn to figure out how to keep him out of the driver's seat.

"Take off your pants," he ordered. The smirk dropped from Puck's face, and he stumbled back, falling onto the bed. Finn pushed his advantage, stepping forward to stand over him. "Come on," he said, putting steel into his voice. Puck's eyes fell and he struggled to comply, his breath coming quicker. Finn grinned to himself. _Better._

Puck wore blue boxer briefs, which clung to his thighs and outlined everything they contained. Still wearing his jeans, Finn pushed him down onto the bed, kneeling on top of him and stretching him out full length, Puck's arms over his head. Puck looked up at him and smiled a lazy smile that made Finn's thighs quiver – _god, _that's_ what they mean when they say "bedroom eyes" – _and started to say something clever, but Finn put a finger over his mouth to hush him. "Don't talk," he said, and Puck stopped. He looked uncertain.

"Yes, that's how I want you," Finn murmured. He intertwined the fingers of his other hand briefly with Puck's, squeezing, then gathered both of Puck's hands together with one hand around his wrists. "Can you keep your hands up there, or do I need to tie them?"

Puck's eyes widened, but he opened his mouth, then shut it again quickly and shook his head. Finn let go, and Puck stayed where Finn had put him. "That's right," Finn smiled, nodding his approval, and Puck blushed from the top of his scalp to the base of his throat. Finn thought it was a good look on him. _I bet Puck doesn't get a lot of approval,_ he suddenly thought, and resolved to change that.

Finn stretched out alongside Puck on the narrow bed and propped himself up on his forearm, their legs and knees and hips lined up and pressed together. He looked down at him, laid out like this, shook his head a little, smiling, wondering how he'd gotten so lucky to be here with Puck, like this, in this moment. He cupped Puck's face in one hand and kissed him, this time slowly, gently, tenderly. Puck groaned, but he didn't move his hands from over his head. It made Finn breathless to watch him like this, so vulnerable, so obedient.

He hesitated, then forged ahead. "Tell me when you realized you wanted… me, in charge, like this." Finn trailed his fingers down Puck's cheek, his neck, along his collarbone, down the curve of his sharply defined pecs. Puck closed his eyes and shuddered.

"D- during our mashup, and after," Puck whispered hoarsely. "I knew I… wanted you before that, but I wasn't letting myself think about it much."

"How long, before that?"

Puck's eyes were still closed. "A long time. Maybe… years."

"Did it freak you out?"

"A little. Mostly I thought it would freak _you_ out. You were always so s-straight." Puck's laugh was incredulous and shaky.

"I thought the same thing about you," Finn admitted. "That's why I couldn't sleep, a couple weeks back. I started having these really crazy sex dreams about you."

"Really?" Puck gulped, smiling, all bravado gone. "… Wow. You're going to have to tell me about those."

"Yeah… they were pretty intense," Finn said, remembering. He looked at Puck. "Dude, you're changing the subject. What about after the mashup?"

"Then I got pissed at you in the hallway and punched you, and you hit me back."

"You liked it," Finn said. Puck squirmed uncomfortably. His arms were still fixed above his head. Finn marveled at his self-control.

"I… yeah, I liked it," Puck said. "Partly I liked that… you meant it. You knew what you wanted and you were going to… take it." He whimpered as Finn grazed his left nipple, feeling the ring with one finger. "But… I liked it."

"You _want_ me to… hit you." Finn felt his own cock jump as he said it. He twisted the nipple ring a little and Puck groaned, low and long, and turned his face away.

"Yes," he hissed, flushing again. "Only… only if you want to."

"I don't really understand it," Finn confessed. "But… yeah, I think I liked it, too. I think I want to." Puck's look of anticipation made him smile. "But I'm worried about hurting you – I mean, your dad –"

"I told you, I know you're not like that," Puck shook his head. "I trust you."

Finn laughed. "I'm not sure why. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Yeah, you do," Puck said softly. "You always know." His eyes were shining, fixed on Finn, and under the weight of that gaze Finn experienced the most indescribable rush of feeling in his chest, spreading through his arms and legs and gut.

Puck cleared his throat. "Can I move my hands now?"

"Okay," said Finn, and Puck's arms came suddenly down around him, pulling him on top of him, pressing their bodies together. Finn made a noise of surprise, and Puck rolled him over onto his back, straddling him.

"These jeans look hot on you," he said, "but I think they need to come off now." Puck looked up at him through dark lashes and put his hands on Finn's zipper. "Can I -?"

"Y-yeah," Finn said, feeling the control slipping away again, but willing to let it, to let Puck… _drive_ for a while. It was his turn to explore. He hadn't had Kurt these past few weeks, teaching him. "You've never done this before, have you? With a guy?"

"Maybe," Puck said, and pulled Finn's zipper down, sliding his hands under the waistband and tugging off his jeans.

"Dude!" Finn grabbed Puck's wrist, shocked. "What? You never told me."

"Oh, come on. What was I going to say, huh?" Puck looked at him sideways, shoving Finn's jeans onto the floor. "I was drunk, there was a four-way. It was just one of those things that happened. And as far as I knew, you were straight."

"I was still your friend," Finn grumbled, but he knew he was being unreasonable. "You could have told me." He realized the thought of anyone else with Puck, but especially the thought of Puck with another _guy,_ made him feel incredibly angry.

"How about you?" Puck said.

"Um." He remembered Kurt climbing onto his lap and whispering, _It'll be our secret,_ and he said, "One guy."

Puck raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his bare chest. "Hypocritical much?"

"Okay, you're right. Forget it." He lay back and sighed. He wasn't ready to think about Kurt.

"Do you want me to go?" Puck asked. His question was casual, but Finn could recognize the lines of worry on his face.

"No." He reached out a hand. Puck took it, and he pulled Puck back down on top of him. The sensation of additional skin and fewer layers of clothing was wonderful. Finn closed his eyes and wrapped his arms and legs around Puck, immersing himself in the feeling. "I need this," he whispered.

Puck shivered. "Whatever you want, you've got it."

Finn rolled him over so they were lying side by side again. He slid an arm under Puck's neck, and then slipped his fingers under the waistband of Puck's shorts. Puck's eyes were calm and trusting. Finn leaned in to kiss him, and when he wrapped his hand around the base of Puck's cock, Puck hummed approval into his mouth.

Finn let himself be overwhelmed by all the sensations: the sight of Puck's beautiful, powerful body, pressed so close to his; the sound of Puck's hitching breath and rhythmic moans; feeling the slickness of his thick, hard shaft rubbing against the webbing of his thumb. He inhaled the heady aroma of their sweat and sex, and thought he'd never smelled anything so incredibly erotic in his life. He turned his head and bit Puck gently on the neck.

"Fuck, _yes_," Puck breathed, thrusting harder into Finn's hand. Finn watched Puck's hand come up and tug on his own nipple ring, and Finn leaned down and mirrored Puck's actions with his tongue on Puck's other nipple. Puck's breath quickened. "Ohhhh…" he groaned, "Finn, god, I'm gonna –"

Finn felt the hot, spurting wetness on his hand just moments before he thrust once, twice against Puck's leg, and buried his face in Puck's chest to muffle his own cries. They rocked together, taut and tight, as the pulses of electricity slowed and subsided.

Puck's breathing quieted and he rolled away from Finn to sit on the edge of the bed. Finn sat up and touched his shoulder. "Puck?"

"Just… a second," he said, his voice choked, knocking Finn's hand away.

Finn swallowed, hesitated, then remembered the moment on the stairs at school, the nightmare at Puck's. He put a firm arm around Puck's shoulder and lifted him up, pulled him right into his lap. Puck struggled, but Finn held him tight. "Shhh," he said, bringing one hand up to stroke his head, using firm touches to calm Puck down. "It's okay. There's nothing wrong. I'm right here."

Puck shuddered and gave up, crying long, gasping sobs and going limp as Finn supported him, with those long strokes down his head, neck and back. He supposed he could have been worried about Puck, but it just felt right. There was something powerfully compelling about holding Puck like this while he lost control. _He needs this, _Finn thought, _but so do I. _

"That was… you were amazing," he said to Puck after his sobs subsided.

Puck looked at him uncertainly, uselessly wiping at his face and eyes. Finn nodded affirmation, and he looked back at the floor.

"I'm pretty fucked up, Finn," he said, his voice low. "I don't… I can't imagine you want to deal with… _this._" He gestured at himself.

"Yes, I do," Finn insisted. "God, Puck, you're my best friend, but I've been dreaming – hoping – but I really never thought, never expected – and then here you _were,_ and _fuck, _that was so hot. So hot. I loved it." He put a hand on the back of Puck's neck and gripped it tightly, and Puck relaxed in his arms. "I'd do it again right now, if I could."

Puck laughed, a shaky sound, but honest. "Give me five minutes," he said.

Finn took Puck by the shoulders and held him out at arm's length to look into his face. Puck, reluctantly, looked back, eyes red.

"I want this," Finn said. "I want _you._ Just as you are. I want to give you this, if you want it." He hesitated, then held Puck's chin firmly. "Tell me right now."

"Yes sir," Puck said quickly, then turned beet red. "Yes," he repeated, softer. "I want it."

Finn nodded, feeling oddly pleased by the "sir." "You.. I want you to tell me everything you want," he said. "Don't hold back. You won't scare me." He rolled his eyes. "I mean, god, if we can deal with Quinn and the baby, we can do anything."

"What… _do_ you want to do about that?" Puck asked.

Finn sighed. "I don't know yet. I'm going to have to think about it. Tomorrow. Right now I need a shower, and clean sheets, and sleep, in that order."

Puck stretched mightily and cracked his back. Finn watched him hungrily, and shook his head grinning. "I really could do it again right now," he said, running a finger down Puck's abs to touch his sticky underwear.

"Dude, you are going to be toast tomorrow at school unless you sleep," Puck chuckled.

"You, too." He hesitated, then suggested casually, "You can stay here, if you want."

Puck looked sharply at him. "Are you sure that's a good idea?" he asked, but his eyes were hopeful. "Would you actually sleep?"

"I sleep best with someone else next to me," he said honestly. He did not say, _Kurt and I found that out last week._

Puck paused. Then he smiled, nodded. "I think I'd sleep better, too. I need to call my mom and let her know I'm staying here. She won't notice until morning, but…" He shrugged.

"Why don't you go shower first, and I'll get some clean sheets?" He put a hand behind Puck's neck and pulled him in to a long, slow kiss. Then he let him go with a smile.

As soon as Puck was out of the room, he picked up his phone. _3 texts – Kurt Hummel,_ it said.

_12:39am – How did it it go?_

_1:05am – This bodes well! LMK how you are._

_2:16am – Hope you're OK – I'm sleeping now – call to wake me up! Seriously._

Kurt picked up on the second ring, sounding sleepy and breathless. "Finn? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm very okay," he said, smiling. "We… it went well."

"Oh, Finn." He could hear the pleasure in Kurt's voice. "It's your happy ending. Or beginning, I suppose."

"Beginning, definitely," he agreed. "There were some… surprises."

"All good, I hope," Kurt said, and yawned. "I want to hear all about it tomorrow. Thanks for calling, Finn."

Finn paused, then said, reluctantly, "I guess we have some decisions to make about… things."

"Finn… don't worry about it. It'll all be fine. We'll talk tomorrow. Get some sleep." Kurt's voice was calm and reassuring. "Good night."

"Good night, Kurt," he said, softly.

* * *

><p>Kurt set the phone down on the couch cushion and huddled under the fleece blanket, reaching for another tissue. There was already a pile of them on the floor next to the couch. Usually he was meticulous about cleaning things like that up, but not tonight. Tonight he would stay on the couch and hope sleep might claim him if he waited long enough.<p>

He doubted it.

The phone buzzed. Kurt quickly picked it up.

_1 text – Noah Puckerman_

_3:21am – Got my absolution. Thanks._

Kurt, who'd already shed more tears that night than he thought possible, buried his face in his hands and sobbed.


End file.
